


Backwards

by shadeblue



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Ficlet, First Time, M/M, Silly Boys, older!Damian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:53:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadeblue/pseuds/shadeblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't even like Tim. Tim doesn't even like him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backwards

**Author's Note:**

> This ship just took over my life I don't know what's happening. No excuses, no apologies.

He doesn’t even _like_ Tim.

(It’s just the way he has of being smarter than everyone, except he really, really is smarter, he knows so damn much and it gives him confidence, gives him authority when he speaks. And Damian knows some of that is just a defense mechanism, only a lot of the times, especially now that they’re older, it isn’t. Tim just _is_ that smart, and he knows it.)

They aren’t even friends. They’ve never been friends.

(They don’t need to be friends for Damian to see the way Tim’s forearms flex when he’s explaining something with his hands, the way it doesn’t matter that he’s the shortest of them, just a bit smaller than Dick, he still commands the room. His shoulders don’t need to be broad when they’re so straight, when the lines of his hard-won muscles cut right through the soft cotton of his t-shirt for Damian to see.)

Hell, he tried to kill him the first time they met.

(And Tim hadn’t let that happen, hadn’t let Damian take one damn thing from him that day or since. He’s pushed back every time, and won a lot. Now he isn’t pushing, now that Damian’s taller and a little bit quieter, now that he has a place and purpose in their family, Tim doesn’t push. He just watches, waiting for something or looking for something, Damian can’t tell. Something like the way Tim looked at him when he came home from Tibet after two years, broader and taller and solid.)

Tim is a know-it-all, a stick-in-the-mud. They have nothing in common.

(They have the way they fight, the way they can stand at each other’s back’s and know just how to move. The way he can feel Tim’s muscles flexing against his, the way they’ve both gotten so much stronger. The way at the end of the night when they strip off the costumes and Damian realizes he’s staring Tim pretends not to notice, so he pretends not to notice when Tim sneaks glances at him over his shoulder.)

It would be terrible. Everything about it.

(Everything except the way Tim’s eyes get wide the first time Damian kisses him, and he doesn’t look away when Damian does it again, like he has to see it, has to record to know that it’s happening, and for just a minute Damian feels like another damn science project and he wants to hide or scream or break something and then Tim makes this tiny little completely desperate sound and he’s just _kissing_ him, kissing him like every research project he might have ever done about kissing is going into this.)

He’s going to regret it.

(But there’s no regret right now, right here, with Tim climbing into his lap and both of them still sweaty and sticky from the night’s patrol, exactly how it should be. Tim is kissing him like it’s his whole reason for being, and that doesn’t surprise him at all. Tim is reluctant to a fault until he’s absolutely sure of something, and then he’s in it 110% so Damian digs his thumb in under Tim’s jaw and gives back as good as he gets. There’s no room for anything like conversation between their tongues, but Tim gasps when Damian bites his lip and Damian groans when Tim finally gets one steady hand between them and on his dick. )

He’s lost his mind.

(In the most perfect way, with the most perfect heat and that little twist in Tim’s wrist when Damian pulls them closer together, their chests sticking from the heat, and he kind of thought Tim would be heavier or something, he’s just so _there_ , but it isn’t even hard for Damian to grip his ass and pull him all the way in until they’re just fucking against each other, panting. Tim is gripping his bicep, his hand not reaching all the way around but bruising to make up for it, and Damian thinks, _hell,_ leans in with his mouth and works on a bruise to match on Tim’s collarbone.)

They both must have. Tim is supposed to be smarter than this.

(Smart enough to know that Damian likes a little pain, likes the way Tim digs his nails into the back of his neck and rake them down his spine. His fingers catch on the scars down Damian’s spine, pulling and making him feel it all the way down. Damian guesses right that Tim likes it too, gripping the short hairs at the back of his head to pull it back, tasting Tim’s throat with his tongue and teeth. _That_ gets Tim to moan, loud in the silence of the cave, pulling himself even closer to Damian and coming between their bodies. All Damian can get a grip on before he loses himself in Tim’s shoulders and comes is—)

Tim doesn’t even _like_ him.


End file.
